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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23030383">A Dumpster of my Thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lividlyEuphoric/pseuds/lividlyEuphoric'>lividlyEuphoric</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Love Poems, Prose Poem, Random &amp; Short, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:35:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23030383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lividlyEuphoric/pseuds/lividlyEuphoric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A place where I dump my thoughts. I've changed my writing style since last time I posted. This is old to new, so some one these are years old.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hanahaki</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey. This first one might be triggering, as it has blood.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I'm choking.<br/>Delicate flower petals fall into my hands<br/>Blood stained.<br/>Liquid red, Puddled, Quietly,<br/>Hushing the sobs that break through my lips.<br/>Hands<br/>are stained crimson,<br/>As I attempt to catch the petals,<br/>Delicately,<br/>Laying, <br/>In the palm of my hand.<br/>Red dribbles down my chin.<br/>Flowers.<br/>They break through the skin of my neck<br/>Silently, descended down,<br/>Onto the cold,<br/>Harsh, tile. <br/>Vines and flowers sprout,<br/>In my throat,<br/>In my lungs,<br/>On my skin.<br/>Sprouts,<br/>Continuously,<br/>Mercilessly,<br/>Flourish, on this<br/>Rich, Dark, Virgin, Peau.<br/>Is this love?<br/>The bitter feeling of despair, loneliness,<br/>And rejection?<br/>My thoughts are again,<br/>interrupted<br/>As I hack up,<br/>This bittersweet feeling,<br/>These flowers,<br/>This<br/>Red<br/>Liquor.<br/>Wine red,<br/>Crimson,<br/>Flowers.<br/>This candy-like<br/>Emotion,<br/>Crystal and sweet.<br/>My chest <br/>is<br/>Forever,<br/>Hollow</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Willow Trees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning - Choking</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You know those trees that hang low enough to brush by your fragile skin? The ones that often get tangled into your hair, leaving you miserable for the rest of the day? Willow trees, the ones your friends sat by, sun rays shining towards pigmented skin, yelling for you to follow? They run around that same tree, as you sit, alone. Sobbing. The thick branches latch onto the delicate skin of your neck, tearing patches of apart as you tear up knowing that it’s your fault. Sun embraces your arms and legs, as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the enormous star that lays before your eyes, skin crumpling as you choke. Grass tickling your toes, Green scratching against your feet. Youth creeps into their smiles, tears down their cheeks. “Join us! We’ll play together!” “Circle you, Circle you,” Comes from inside that willow tree. “Come with us!” “Come with us.” You weep, strands of hair fall to the ground. “Come home, dear,” “Let’s stay here for a bit.” No, please, I’m sorry. “Looks like you’re stuck to the willow tree! Now the ghosts are going to get you!” “We missed you, please don’t leave us again, after all, you’re the demon, so you’re stuck to the willow tree.” </p><p>Can’t</p><p>Breathe</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Flowers Wither</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning - Gore<br/>There is a bit of french in this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Avec mes fleurs<br/>Cœur dans la main, je cours à ta porte.<br/>Vous répondez avec un sourire dentelée,<br/>《Hey dude,》 Tu dis, sans le savoir de mon action suivant.<br/>Je donne des fleurs.<br/>Je donne mon cœur.<br/>Je donne ma vie.<br/>Tu regarde mes actions- avec une douleur grande sur ton visage.<br/>Ton sourire est devenu triste.<br/>Sans un mot, tu fermer la porte.<br/>Je pleure fort, mais tu n'as pas répondu.<br/>《Me donne une réponse!》<br/>Tu m'as laisse,<br/>Avec ma vie.<br/>Avec mon cœur.<br/>Avec mes fleurs.<br/>Je commence à étouffer.</p><p>With your everything<br/>I chill on my couch, controller in hand.<br/>I hear a friendly knock, as I, of course, know who that is.<br/>"Hey dude," I say with full confidence. I've known this man for a while, so friendly interaction is a norm.<br/>"Salut! I- er- have brought you des fleurs."<br/>I know his english isn't the best, but you know, the dude's trying. <br/>"Why'd you bring flowers, man? I actually doubt those are for me."<br/>His facial expression twisted with a sorrow, but I didn't notice that then.<br/>"Haha- oui, this is- this is for the girl I've er- been talking to on- what do you call it? Tumblr?"<br/>I laughed with a toothy grin.<br/>"Anyways, come in!"<br/>We have always been good friends. We met online really, on a minecraft server. Really stupid right? But you know, why can't grown men have some fun? We played the night away, as usual.<br/>COD, Halo, Fallout- really whatever we wanted.<br/>"Mon ami, you've always been the best at this game." <br/>I laugh wholeheartedly, knowing that was probably because he'd lost 2 games already.<br/>"That's just because you suck!"<br/>Laughter erupts.<br/>"You know, I really enjoy my time with you."<br/>I smile awkwardly.<br/>He smiles sadly.<br/>"I don't have much time left, ami. I have barely- er- un semaine"<br/>"So those really were for me?"<br/>"Oui."<br/>Silence ensues, until he says that he should head home.<br/>I smile and say goodbye, as he walks out the door.<br/>And I look at the table, to see a vibrant bouquet of flowers.</p><p>White chrysanthemum<br/>J'arrive dans ma maison,<br/>Ma sang qui goutte vers le bas de ma visage.<br/>La rouge mélangés avec mon salive,<br/>Et mes yeux se senti comme ils tombent de ma tête.<br/>Il se sent comme des vers, <br/>et maintenant, <br/>je ne peux pas voir.<br/>Ma tête bat la chamade;<br/>Desfleursdesfleursdesfleurs-<br/>Je ne peux pas respirer.</p><p>It's been a couple days- and he has spoken to me since.<br/>I've gotten worried- at first I thought it was embarrassment or something, but he doesn't even play with me anymore. No calls- no answer to texts, I was scared.<br/>So I thought I should visit him. A simple bus ride, nothing too bad.<br/>A knock.<br/>Nothing.<br/>One more try.<br/>Nothing.<br/>Call for him.<br/>Nothing.<br/>Bang on the door.<br/>Nothing.<br/>Look for the key.<br/>Something.<br/>Open the door.<br/>I see him on the couch, just sitting in front of the running TV.<br/>At first I scold him, jokingly, of course, but he says nothing.<br/>I walk over.<br/>Flowers.<br/>I look in horror, my stomach twisting.<br/>There was blood stains everywhere.<br/>But most importantly-<br/>His corpse sits peacefully, mouth open and stuffed. Along with his eye sockets. <br/>Eyes in his palms.<br/>Flowers stuffed in his eyelids.<br/>Flowers stuffing his mouth.<br/>And a note.<br/>"White chrysanthemums are my favorite."</p><p>A white chrysanthemum symbolizes truth and loyal love — chrysanthemums also symbolizes sorrow for the dead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Crimson & Pigeons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning - Gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eyes.</p><p>Those bright red rings seep into my thoughts, as I look up to see splatters of it. Your scleras seem empty, almost as if they were hollow.</p><p>-</p><p>You sat peacefully on the cushion, head resting on the edge of the sofa. Dim lights are on, a soft glow of orange filling the room. Floors creak as I step, and your pupils move to match mine. The constellations that reside on your skin seem to glow brighter than they did before. I walk over with a smile, brushing your soft blonde tendrils, joining the warm cocoon of blankets.</p><p>-</p><p>I follow the trail of crimson that puddles on the tile, leading to that same gray couch. Tangerine coloured light, a warmth that intermingles with a soft spice, the same scent that correlated my thoughts with yours — You hum a soft tone, the same venomous honey that your mouth dripped into my ears, it felt like an oil drifting through water, a warm hand gliding across skin. It sounds lovely though, a melody of calm, despite the red splatters and tainted atmosphere.</p><p>I walk over to you, with the same careful steps. The floors creak, catching your attention. Painfully bright red irises are complemented by diamond white scleras, as your gaze feels like daggers plunging into my skin. </p><p>You pull me in, with your gaze staying connected to mine. You smile softly, as you whisper promises of reunion into my ear. I latch onto your cold hand, squeezing endlessly, begging to not let go. Your hold grows weaker, eyes dripping of life. I let out an ugly sob, a smile left on your face as your very soul seems to lose colour. I hover over your corpse as my scleras burn with tears.</p><p>I open the window, the pigeons and crows you fed filling our living room. I feed a pigeon the rest of my cucumber sandwich.</p><p>A pigeon. A poor looking bird, one that a lot will agree about being 'homeless'. </p><p>A crow. A bird that seems a bit more middle class, roaming the city doing as it pleases.</p><p>-</p><p>"I don't deserve you."</p><p>That's what you told me when I asked if you cared about my colour. You said that you hated that warm, sweet and spice colour, since it deemed you higher than I. You claimed that you loved how everything about me was a hyperbole. You welcomed my personality like sunlight on a winter day, even if it meant you getting hurt.</p><p>I asked if a neon really fit with a monochrome colour. Does that candy red that you dislike to badly really balance out mine? Your answer has never changed, even during the last moments of your life.</p><p>You said that, your neon red contrasts perfectly with a shade that is as dull as mine, but to me it seems you are the only thing that makes looking at us worth anything. You could've gone with an icy blue, which fits amazingly with your warm shade. But you went with someone as dull as me.</p><p>When your eyes dripped of colour, my facade broke. Those beautifully bright red eyes seemed to fade out, almost looking like mine. With you, even my monotone grey became more colourful. Now I'm just grey, the ugliest shade. Not dark enough to contrast pastels, not pale enough to fit deeper colours.</p><p>you said the most vibrant of eyes have the dullest personality living in them.</p><p>i never deserved someone as perfect as you.</p><p>you died because you loved me.</p><p>because you fell in love with a low blood.</p><p>grief, love.</p><p>'Don't know how I'd live without<br/>But I'll stay strong for you.'<br/>Pigeon - Cavetown</p><p>The more colourful your eyes and blood are the higher ranked you are. Dull shades like rust colours, khakis, and browns are lowest. Pastels, icy colours, blacks, and whites are middle shades. Bright colours like neons are high shades. Greys are the lowest, as they were mutants of either blacks or whites.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Banana Bread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Comme les mots de ton bouche, tu parle comme l’eau des lacs. Tu faire du pain, le goût de la banane dans mon bouche.</p><p>Alike the words that escape your lips, you speak similarly to the waters within lakes. You made bread, the warm taste of banana filling my mouth.</p><p>Is it normal? The feeling in my chest that lives there permanently with the bees that sting at the outside of my lungs. The sweet pastry that fills my mouth calms the anxious, the warmth fills my mouth until I can’t feel anything. No buzzing, no stinging, nothing.</p><p>You tears seep into your shirt, as I hold onto you only by the simple thread of your shirt, as it unravels, you plunge further down. </p><p>Let me breathe,</p><p>Your eyes shoot daggers into me, not with violence behind it, but with desperation. You begged without opening your mouth. I opened mine to protest, with nothing but a whimper left my mouth. Tears flowed rapidly down my cheeks, hoping to keep you with me.</p><p>The thread snaps, the soft sound erupted into my ears louder than I had wanted it to. </p><p>I’m sorry for not helping when I could.</p><p>‘you're falling further down but i've got you by a thread<br/>i wrap the chord around my arms until my hands start to turn red<br/>but it's not enough, it won't be enough to save you’<br/>-Banana Bread, Cavetown</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Birds That Live in Monument Valley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is a newer one, lol.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Birdseed is picked at while the bird flaps his wings. The wind moves swiftly with the crow’s actions. Every feather glitters in the sun rays, golden drops of light fall on the warm prickles of the bird’s wings. Soft swishing, though no one would spend more than two hundred seconds staring at a simple street bird. The crow flows through the wind as if it were weightless — it’s beady eyes glaring back down at me, as I take a bite out of sweet Spanish bread. The golden paste enters my mouth, the crumbs falling peacefully from chapped lips. The pieces of concrete blow off the wall from the harsh breeze, falling warmly onto my lap. Despite the cold metal of the ledge, the warmth of my neck keeps me from freezing. I focus my vision back to the sweet bun of bread, glassy and fragile crust crumbling beneath my molars. No matter how much my head spins, my mind flies into a warm abyss, keeping me steady on the ledge. The high ground of this particular monument gives me a lavish comfort, the sound of crumbling ground below me seems to now give comfort rather than fear, like it used to. </p><p>The sound of creaking doors and moving walls fills my ears, as I am moved swiftly to the next monument, my hat falling slightly to the side of my head — I lose my attention from the moving monument walls. As I fix the position of my hat, I lift myself up from the ledge, taking a first step out of thousands. I walk the streets of endless doors, leading me into an unending cycle of steps. Going down a spiral of stairs, I spend time wondering where I left my sense of individuality, as the birds and lights around me seem to take over who I once was. </p><p>The clouds part as I walk, trying to remind myself that if I set myself to freedom, the bitter taste that resides in my mouth will disappear with time. Despite the ultimate pain of fear surrounding a small boy like me, I can learn to cope with the hunger of the real world, and escape this coma of sunsets that I’ve been living in. I blink, my vision getting blurry as I reach the last crystal, as I remove my hat, my hair flying coarsely through the wind. The real world may berate me, but I will be able to soar like the crows that fly without care. I grab the last light, as shadows of winged angels surround me, I close my eyes to relive who I once was, in a different time, in a different form. My own wings fall to my sides, as the wind carries me to a different reality.</p><p>To be able to find myself, I must endure the suffering of a thousand souls.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. childish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i remembered that you told me<br/>listen to the rules of what the world deems acceptable. <br/>the absence of grammar that laid between my sentences was undeniable, <br/>as my very existence is disgusting to you. <br/>ill love you for as long as i can <br/>even if you push me away like a stray cat <br/>that you fed on an unknown day. <br/>my eyes will remain on you <br/>regardless of what you say <br/>where your path leads<br/>whether you decide to keep me or throw me away<br/>i will walk between the cracks of the sidewalk simply to please you.<br/>ill clean the sole of your shoes everytime you take a step. <br/>please <br/>ill be good<br/>i swear</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Violet Pen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning - Implied Rape</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zoe sat tearfully in the backside of the club -- coloured lights filled her peripheral vision, with her eyelids feeling as heavy as ever. Homework flew to her mind again, reminding her that no matter how hard she tries, she'll still fail at least two classes. Her very reason for coming here was to simply drink her worries away, but that doesn't seem to be the way the story ascends. Despite her wishes to forget her life and wake up careless, she must stay sober to look over her friend, if that's what they still are, Eli. Obviously Eli didn't give much of a shit, because despite Zoe's irritation with her right now, Eli is flowing with the music like the river to the moonlight.</p><p>Songs flew by as if they weren't any longer than four minutes each. Maybe it was the small amount of gin she had a few minutes ago. Even though Zoe always seemed to be the more, how to say this, outrageous out of the two of them, Elijah had moved her hips to the music, almost as if she was the stripper on the centre pole. Eli never seemed to speak to anyone, either completely mute, or whispering quiet convos. Confrontation wasn't her best area of work. The Elijah Zoe knew would be sitting between Zoe's legs on the floor, probably sulking about her exams the next week, making sure that Zoe didn't die from alcohol poisoning. This time, it seemed reversed. Elijah met this boy, as man wouldn't be the way to describe him. Kaden, a candy tongued, vanilla smelling son of a bitch. The guy has some sort of cologne, one that made Zoe's head pound like a motherfucker. His whole persona was fake -- you can see it in the way he moves his hands, the way his tone shifts when he's lying. And in Zoe's eyes, the boy was an ugly liar, but seems to have some sort of skill in swooning people. I mean- how would he be able to puppeteer Elijah so easily? Elijah on the other hand, seemed content with his presence alone -- after meeting  Kaden, it seemed like her brittle facade of a sweet girl faded like warm breath on a cold winter night. Zoe had noticed she seemed to get a drink subconsciously, as a martini was held between her delicate fingertips. She silently berated herself for it, as she needed to study for exams later tonight.</p><p>Zoe glared at Eli as she spun on the dance floor, cheeks as pink as a rose. She didn't seem embarrassed, rather, high. High, high off of the smell that flowed through the air, high off of her feelings, but most importantly, she seemed highly intoxicated.  A smirk blossomed across Eli's face, her nose crumpling like the puff pastries Zoe's mother made. Her hips grinded against Kaden's, skin of their arms flushing at the touch. Eli's pupils were large, and if you were to get too close, you'd fall into the grasp of that void, the void that brutally stabbed her best friend. Eli's chapped lips were pierced by Kaden's, every part of Zoe itching to rip her away. But, as much as Zoe wanted to believe she was okay, Eli's movements seemed- limp. Not lively whatsoever, just simply longing for whatever came next. Eli was deaf, her dancing to the music made no sense. Kaden's hands laid on Eil's hips, seemingly moving her for his own desires. </p><p>Kaden gripped Elijah's wrist, dragging her to the exit. </p><p>Zoe reflected on the night, catching Kaden in the corner of her eye. He sloppily kissed at Eli's neck, an evident boner. Zoe knew what was going on. </p><p>Alcohol dripped down Eli's throat, her cocktail mixed with a plain white dust by a man in a red button down.</p><p>Zoe flew through the crowd, begging whoever's up there that she'll get there first. The sight in front of her begged to differ. </p><p>He dragged her to the parking lot, unzipping his fly. </p><p>Eli's crop top was riding up onto her breasts, revealing a blue lace bra. Eli was forced on top of Kaden, her legs spread across his on the leather seat of his car. Her soft chapped lips are slightly cracked open, her beautiful red locks falling loose behind her shoulders. Though the door blocked her legs, Zoe knew those scarred thighs were probably grinding softly against that gross guy's crotch. </p><p>Zoe flew to the window of the car, banging angrily against the glass. She turned limply, giving Zoe a soft smile, her magma hair evidently flowing with her head. Those lava red irises burned through Zoe's flesh, the void black of her pupils dragging Zoe in again. The car door opened slightly, then shut again. Kaden slipped off her bra, revealing delicate pink nipples, held warmly in Kaden's hands. Zoe banged harder, Kaden teasing her by sucking on Elijah's neck. A warm faded purple blossomed on Eli's collarbone, as Zoe was dragged away from the car by herself. She couldn't bring herself to watch any longer. She gripped her violet pen, memories of Elijah flowing through her hippocampus.</p><p>That girl -- the quiet, eccentric little girl, was being led to a place where she doesn’t belong, her own addiction being fed like a meth addict shooting up. Zoe, is left with an obsidian heart, her water infected by her glowing molten lava. She sits, chewing on her violet pen, useless, as she was too weak to try and free her only friend.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Allergic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ew imagine liking homosuck</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>honey drips from the mouths of children, lips parted (hungry, greedy)<br/>the jaws --<br/>they clench and release, the grinding of their molars and the metal, rocks and canines, brittle gold snapping the bones that reside within pink lips. <br/>skin is stained by crimson,<br/>fluorescent red. <br/>thin glass crunches beneath your feet<br/>the sound gashing incisions in your ears<br/>your legs feel as if they are crumbling<br/>head flowing into tendrils of despair<br/>wish to be flowing with breath- breeze<br/>yet you are ground ridden. (hesitant, heavy)<br/>stop<br/>the figure stands with stoic eyes<br/>you can only hope for an answer (sock, embrace)<br/>remove your hand<br/>the soles of your feet seem to be begging to let your weight down<br/>yet you stand, the golden yellow of his veins<br/>flourishing <br/>into dandelions</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Tower Viewer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>:)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It feels odd to do such a simple thing.</p><p>Take a photo -- one that in the years to come will be rotted and blurred to point you don't know what to make of it<br/>awfully depressing that everything you've worked on will soon be torn <br/>memories that you've had will have yellowed<br/>no 'picture' nor 'souvenir' will allow you to relive that</p><p>The feeling of nostalgia burns into your chest <br/>in your scleras;<br/>the warm scent of granny apples and grass<br/>tree bark and lavender</p><p>molars grind into <br/>my frigid, cold fingertips<br/>tears and crimson drip (drop)<br/>try to make you happier<br/>than i'll ever be<br/>you deserve it anyways</p><p>we're temporary.</p><p>i'll give my dollar to you</p><p>so i can see that smile of yours</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. unexhumed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>uhh dissociation boiis</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I feel like I'm being strangled.<br/>Glass inside my head<br/>like the high right before you die<br/>with eyes on the verge of tears<br/>but it feels like ive sobbed for hours<br/>it feels like im dead<br/>like im going to<br/>die and <br/>i cant breathe theres something on <br/>my chest but it feels <br/>hollow and people seem like a <br/>blank void and my eyesight is <br/>tunnelled their eyes are blank <br/>my stomach permanently hurts<br/>my ears are muffled<br/>im sitting on my own chest pollen <br/>and dust infecting my eyelids<br/>theres something chewing on my lungs and guts and wont stop<br/>like my bed is taking me in and lights cloud my vision but it always feels dark<br/>and the deity up there is<br/>trying to kill me my feelings<br/>are like soggy cereal im being <br/>stabbed in the throat and my<br/>face is stuck in a sloppy expression i<br/>dont want to eat if i eat i will<br/>vomit but i can never vomit i feel<br/>like plastic the<br/>floor is sinking and the<br/>air is thick every noise sounds<br/>like a minor chord the people<br/>want to take me away<br/>from home my vision is<br/>blurred with pseudo lights everything<br/>is flashing am i dead? my time<br/>is fleeting and i think i might end up <br/>ending this myself because<br/>whats the point in living if you are <br/>aching every moment everything<br/>looks like doors and im scared<br/>i dont want to die</p>
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